Satnam’s head is bobbing. She’s mumbling, trying hard to remain conscious and on the fence. The wind is up, the bridge swaying minutely underfoot. Bristol is such a blowy city. The tired woman loves that about it. Every day is a bad hair day in Bristol. You can’t be a Bristolian and be fussy about your blow-dry. What odd thoughts come unbidden when you’re up against it. Sondra scopes around in her head for some better ones. ‘I don’t need to call the Samaritans. I can call anyone,’ she says. ‘Just give me a number.’

Satnam is looking at her now. She is so young and beautiful, with delicate, even features and long, black, unruly hair. ‘I don’t know any numbers. My phone…’ She’s losing focus, slurring her words. Sondra can’t tell if this is a good thing or not. She takes a step closer. It’s the wrong move. Satnam resumes her grip on the fence and climbs higher, balancing herself by bracing on the upright.

‘OK, OK, I won’t move. Is your phone here?’

Satnam nods. She’s pointing away, towards the bridge tower. ‘You left it over by the tower?’ Satnam moans in response. Sondra says, ‘Promise to stay there and I’ll get your phone.’ She walks backwards towards the tower, slowly, one step at a time. In a minute she’s reached the spot where Satnam was pointing. One eye scouts about under the lights, the other remains on Satnam. It’s hard to see. The rain is on her glasses and so much is in shadow. She wants to ask, What does it look like? What colour is it? But those questions will be wasting time and there is no time to waste. Besides, the young woman is growing more and more incoherent. Soon, she thinks, Satnam won’t be able to say anything at all. Sondra’s eyes sweep the paving on the walkway. Just as she is beginning to feel desperate, her foot makes contact with something. She bends and gropes at the pavement and there it is. An iPhone. Oh, what a relief! She has found it and it’s an iPhone. Sondra also has an iPhone so she knows how they work.

‘You need to tell me the passcode.’ She thinks she hears one oh four oh but it’s so slurred that might not be it. Hurriedly, she plugs in the numbers. And thank God, thank God, the homescreen appears.

Satnam says, ‘Call Nevis.’

Nevis? Is that a last name or a first? Will Sondra find it in the contacts? Maybe, but it’ll take too long. Another better idea bubbles up. She pushes the menu button and waits for the tone then speaks into the phone as clearly as she can. ‘Siri, call Nevis.’

The phone speaks. ‘Calling Nevis.’